In Ipod we trust
It only takes a minute's reflection on life in London to recognise that not only are leopard pumps back in fashion, but that no one is ever 'on their own.' We walk out of the office and instinctively reach for the mobile to finally return those personal calls from last week. We get home after a few pints and log straight onto the BBC (or blogger if our condition is particularly acute) in case the world didn't stop while we downed a few lagers. We wake in the morning to instantly check the crackberry in case that client from overseas responded to last night's intentionally time zone incompatible email.
Action upon action to buffer the moment, because 'all by ourselves, don't wanna be, all by ourselves, anymore'. And why? Are we really our own worst enemy? I (or Satre, if you are splitting hairs) thought hell was other people. Why the modern need to share our thoughts and feelings instantaneously? A boyfriend sends us a cryptic text and we immediately phone a friend to decipher the code. Why such shameless dependency? Because presumably some third party only available down the end of a Nokia has some superior information on matters personal to our life. Why have we let ourselves get to this point? Has technology commandeered independent thought to the extreme, by which we now need others in order to feel our feelings in the first place?
If you sense an element of the dramatic in these fighting words, then I propose you try commuting without your Ipod for a day (if only to make you ditch those 'nano'-sensical ties. Thomas Pink has a lot to answer for introducing those to the already sartorial crisis of male commuter fashion). Why log onto your MySpace homepage and list your likes and dislikes, when you could be out discovering new ones? Okay, maybe we are verging on the outrageous, I realise. I mean who has time to see Kandinsky at the Tate, read Arthur & George, catch Los Olvidados at the NFT, or ever make it to Green & Red for a serious Shoreditch shot of tequila, when there are YouTube videos of J-Pop dancing Japanese teenagers to watch?
Thankfully, London is a creative capital filled with resourceful young things, or just a cesspool for conspicuous cuddlers.
Don't believe me? Check out:
Cuddle Parties: a US import (there is a novelty) where 'nurturing, non-sexual, affectionate touch in a safe and structured environment' is part of the deal. Back rubs, naps, and hugs all up for grabs, but no Eyes Wide Shut moments, supposedly. Email: firstname.lastname@example.org for more info. The next one is this Sunday in West Hampstead.
The Lunch Club : another import from the US (because we know they like their food) with a tagline 'because eating alone is boring.' An incredibly successful (if random) social networking forum where strangers come together to eat, drink, and meet. Reports from NYC are of 'an upmarket, more downtown (read cool) than uptown (read not) crowd.' And them (read us) New Yorkers are a tough audience.
Stitch and Bitch: Bi-monthly knitting classes with various locations across London cafes and pubs. From fuddy-duddy to trendy at the drop of a needle. Because if Uma and Madonna are at it, it must be the new yoga.